i feel like i'm dying
over and over and over again
that last entry feels like forever. i was so close to holding on to something. it lasted maybe a week.
then, the exhaustion.
then, the dark edge on the same page. over spending. wild eyes. "i just want to get fucked up and be depraved." knowing this is not a reality at this point in my life, i am a thirty one year old woman, goddamn it, the best i can hope for is a small bottle of whisky and some leftover pain pills, a few scribbles of writing and not a lot of sleep.
the aftermath doesn't wait until it's over anymore. i keep not sleeping i have to sell my guitar to get out of the hole and not even for a car. i'm going to go to work in all black tomorrow, "excuse me i'm in mourning." "but wasn't this your distant uncle you barely ever saw?" "no, asshole, it was a guitar, not a family member." "it was just an analogy." "you're a dick."
i'm friends with obnoxious people and i'm the biggest asshole of them all.
i don't think these meds are working anymore